


Eames and Arthur Make a Porno

by Grimmalie



Category: Inception
Genre: Humor, M/M, Role Reversal, Sex Tape, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-17
Updated: 2011-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmalie/pseuds/Grimmalie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ariadne finds a DVD in Arthur's room...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eames and Arthur Make a Porno

**Author's Note:**

> Another challenge from a friend, demanding that I incorporate the story. Had way too much fun with this.

Ariadne crept into the flat, the cold Parisian rain freezing slowly to her skin.  Arthur draped a blanket over her shoulder and ushered her to the bedroom on the other of the cramped living room.  Her teeth had already begun to chatter, but she couldn’t help taking in every inch of the place; each personal ornament, each dirty dish in the sink, right down the areas where the carpet was more worn than others.  Arthur kept so much so close.  She felt strangely flattered, that he would trust her enough to bring her back.

                “Here,” he said, opening the door and ushering her inside.  Shivering violently, Ariadne made a beeline for the large, cozy-looking bed.  She sank down into it, her every frozen muscle relaxing.  Somehow, a bed like wasn’t what he’d expected.  Nobody with a bed this comfortable could even begin to be so prim and proper.  Arthur strode over to the dresser and pulled it open.  He frowned, then close his eyes and swore.

                “Sorry,” he apologized profusely, going through the next drawer, and the next. “I kind of forgot to do laundry.  You’ll have to borrow something of Eames.”

                Ariadne wrinkled her nose as Arthur handed her a pair of worn sweatpants and a Hawaiian shirt so loud, even their favorite colorful forger would never wear it publically.

                “H-Hard to imagine y-y-you f-forgetting laundry,” she teased.

                Arthur quirked his brow, lips twitching in amusement.

                “Hard to imagine you forgetting an umbrella.  In Paris.  In November.  I’ll just let you change,” he offered, ducking out of the room before Ariadne could grind out a response between her chattering teeth.  The second the door had closed, she jumped off the bed and proceeded to rip off her cold, wet clothes, slipping into Eames’ large, baggy ones.  The shirt wasn’t too much of a problem, but the sweatpants hung so precariously off of her small frame that she had to wrap the ties completely around her waist just to keep it on at all.  Then, she flipped the blanket around and wrapped the dry side around herself.

                The appropriate mode of action at this point would obviously be to go out, let Arthur know she was done, share some tea, and maybe relax while drinking tea and reminiscing about old jobs.  If Eames came home, it would probably turn from tea to something a bit more fun.  She bit her lip.  Professionalism had kept all of them from seeing what the others were like while under the influence.  Like everyone, she was fiercely interested in what her favorite forger and point man were like when their inhibitions were stripped away.

                Still, who knew when she’d have the chance to look into Arthur’s private world again- for its bare walls and innate tidiness screamed Arthur far more than Eames.  There was very little of Arthur in his place.  It made sense, of course.  He settled down so seldom, there was no need to decorate it.  From what he’d told her, the place hadn’t even originally been his.  It had been Mal and Dom’s.  They’d met in Paris like fate; the brilliant architect and the professor’s equally brilliant daughter.  This had been their back in college and, when they chose to move to America, they gave it to their good friend Arthur, who used it as more of a pit stop.  Still, for all that, she could see that Arthur had truly made this place his own.  Little hints, from the suits hanging in the closet, color coded, to the cards on the bedside table, courtesy of the man Arthur had truly let into his space.

                Hungrily, she permitted her eyes to rove over the room until they fell on a disk left haphazardly atop the dresser, half-hidden beneath the manila folders.  A cd?  Arthur wasn’t really one for music, as far as she’d ever known.

                Curiously, she pushed a shoulder aside.  In bold letters on the cd was the word ‘Unwatchable’.  A dvd then.  A _homemade_ dvd.  What sort of dvd would Arthur possibly own?

o-o-o

“I can’t believe you’re making me watch this,” Arthur snarked.  Eames quirked a brow and pushed the American’s feet out of his lap.  Arthur shot him a bitch face and determinedly returned them to their previous place.

                “Would it kill you to open your mind?” Eames demanded.

                Arthur heaved a self-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes.

                “Just turn it on.”

                _Shower Sex III_ was, in Eames’ opinion, fun.  It was like one of those awful B-movies that showed on Saturday afternoons when nothing else was on.  You turned it on, knowing it would be awful.  You watched it, laughing inwardly because it was so awful.  But at the same time, it was sex, and showers, and in the case of this particular film, outstanding camera angles.  It wasn’t good.  Not by a long shot.  But it was fun, and his favorite part of being in a relationship was watching something like this with his significant other.

                Arthur, however, seemed to miss the point of it.  He frowned at the film, as though it was some artistic thing in a foreign language.  When he developed the inevitable hard-on, he did not seem to enjoy it.  If anything, he shifted awkwardly and pulled his legs off Eames’s lap (Much to Eames’s disappointment) and crossed them, his shoulders going rigid.

                With a low groan, Eames paused the film and turned on him.

                “Problem?”

                Arthur squirmed.

                “It’s… I just don’t…”

                “Arthur, have you never watched a porno with someone before?”

                Arthur’s face grew pale as he narrowed his eyes.

                “No,” he scoffed, but there was something in his voice.  It was the tone that people used when they had a secret that was just a hair away from the question that had been asked.

                “Arthur, have you never seen a porno before?”

                Arthur rolled his eyes and looked away, resting his chin on one fist.  Eames bit the inside of his lip.

                “You haven’t.”

                “Well, clearly I wasn’t missing out on much,” Arthur scoffed. “This is absolute garbage.”

                “Says your upstairs brain, but your downstairs brain begs to differ.”

                Arthur’s eyes flicked down, then back up again.  He settled deeper into his sulk.

                “You and I could do better,” he insisted.

                Eames straightened.  There were times in his light when the proverbial lightbulb flickered to life above his head.  The first time he’d forged and knew that he was damn good at it.  The first time he’d won at poker.  The day he stared out the window of an airplane and knew he’d travel the rest of his life.  This moment was like a small, watered down version of those moments of magnificent clarity.  He grinned.

                “Why don’t we?”

                “What?”

                “Why don’t we make one?” he suggested. “Just for us.”

                Arthur turned slowly to stare at him with wide brown eyes.

o-o-o

Ariadne picked up the disk and looked it over.  There were only a couple of finger prints on it.  Clearly it had been watched, but not often.  Her heart thudded.  The old saying went, ‘curiosity killed the cat’.  It hadn’t killed her yet, though.  In fact, curiosity had led her to Paris, to dreamshare, to inception on her very first job.

                Arthur would be pissed if he found out she’d taken it, but the disk had been buried beneath manila folders from two jobs ago, and it was covered in a thin layer of dust.  She could probably sneak it out without alarming him.  And if he did catch her, well, he _was_ one of the people who’d taught her to steal in the first place.

                She shifted the folders to hide the dustless-spot where the disk had sat and crouched down to the ground next to her pile of wet clothes.  Opening her purse, she located an oversized architecture book for free reading, into which she slipped the disk.

o-o-o

“I feel like an idiot,” Arthur groused.

                Eames finished settling up the camera and turned.  The sight of Arthur standing in American army fatigues sent a rush of warmth through him.  Arthur quirked his brow, hands on his hips.

                “Well?”

                “Darling, you have never been more appealing.”

                “Great,” Arthur said dryly. “Now I can justify joining the army.”

                “No, now you can justify leaving the army for a glorious career in corporate espionage and, soon, pornography.”

                “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

                “You agreed,” Eames reminded him.  “Now come here.  Camera’s rolling.  We just do what we do and, if your theory is correct, we’ll blow _Shower Sex III_ out of the water.”

                Arthur rolled his eyes at the pun, but obliged, walking forward and settling his hands on Eames’s hips.  Eames closed his eyes and caught Arthur’s lips in his own.  The rough, heavy fabric of the fatigues just made him that much more desperate to rip them off and see Arthur in all his glory, but he had to take it slow.  He wanted to enjoy this.  Lord, what was that man doing with his tongue?  It couldn’t be legal, now with the way it made Eames’s head spun and his knees weaken.  Groaning appreciatively, he grabbed Arthur’s waist and pulled him close, pressing the growing bulge in his pants against Arthur’s thigh.

                Arthur, he noted absently, had no such bulge which was… odd.

                “Wait, wait,” Arthur protested, pulling back.  Eames would forever deny the small gasp and whimper that escaped his throat whenever Arthur did something like this.  Arthur fixed him with a level stare. “Why am I the only one in a costume?”

                “Because you had one,” Eames replied. “And I always wanted to see what you looked like as a soldier.”

                He made to go in for another kiss, but Arthur blocked him.

                “So, what are you going to call this?  _Soldier sex I?”_

                “The name doesn’t matter,” Eames growled, tightening his grip on Arthur’s waist. “It’s just for us, anyway, yeah?”

                Arthur looked dubious but, finally, he sighed and nodded.  Eames grinned and caught hips lips again, nipping appreciatively before making swift work of his.  His hands slipped down to Arthur’s ass as he nipped him on the ear.  Arthur gasped, and –ah.  There it was, the reaction Eames was going for.

                Arthur began to unbutton Eames’s shirt, running his fingers over Eames’s chest, leaving fiery trails in their wake.  Eames began to do the same to Arthur’s, pausing only to shrug out of his button-up as he reached Arthur’s pants.  The buttons, however, were not giving.

                “Dammit,” he hissed, struggling to undo them.  Arthur gasped, his eyes focused.

                “Crap,” he growled. “I was afraid this might happen.”

                “What the hell-”

                “It’s a flaw in the design,” Arthur sighed. “These things are damn near impossible to get out of.”

                Eames closed his eyes and swore.  The camera beeped suddenly, informing him that it was out of battery life, anyway.

                o-o-o

There was a knock at the door.

                “Ariadne, are you okay?”

                “Yeah,” she hurried to reply, slinging the purse over her shoulder and gathering up her cold, sopping clothes.  She shuffled to the door, trying to hide both her guilt and the way they dripped all over his otherwise nice carpet.

                Arthur did not fail to impress her.  The second she opened the door, she saw that he’d already strung laundry lines upon which she could hang her clothes to dry just above the old fashioned potbelly stove which, while not strictly necessary, added a little extra warmth to the already sinfully warm house.

                “I’ll take those,” he offered, relieving her of her burden.  “You go sit on the couch.  I made some tea already.  You can have your pick of peppermint or hibiscus.  I’ll drink whatever you don’t.”

                Ariadne settled down on the couch, watching as Arthur tirelessly tended to her clothes.  For the first time, she began to understand why Eames liked forging.  There was something magnificently satisfying about having a secret right in front of a person.  She wondered idly how the disk would change her perspective of him.

o-o-o

The massive bed stretched out before them, its dark, satiny sheets both enticing and a little offputting.  Eames wondered if it was overkill to dream this up, but Arthur didn’t seem to mind.  In fact, he was already stretched out on his bed, wearing only his birthday suit.  Eames grinned and crept over him, similarly dressed.

                “Mm, I see you came prepared, darling,” he teased, running his fingers through Arthur’s perfectly coiffed hair, effectively ruining it.  That was his favorite part about being with a dapper boy. “I do hope you remember your lines.”

                Arthur quirked a brow.

                “Oh baby,” he deadpanned. “It’s so big.  Oh, oh.  Don’t stop.  Yeah.  Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

                Eames flicked him across the head.

                “Not like that,” he admonished. “You’ve gotta put some real emotion behind it.”

                “How’s this for emotion,” Arthur scoffed. “Fuck me now, or I’ll make you wish you had.”

                Eames grinned and lowered his head to Arthur’s chest, kissing a delicate trail down onto his belly.  Arthur shivered.

                “How are you gonna do that, exactly?”

                Arthur only hummed noncommittally.  Eamed reached Arthur’s him and nipped playfully at the inside of his thigh.  Arthur gasped and bucked.  Eames chuckled and pressed Arthur’s hips down against the bed, which he knew would drive Arthur absolutely wild.  Bondage, even the light sort of holding the other down, was something they’d both discovered an early affinity for.

                “Mm,” Arthur hummed. “This is so much better than stupid costumes.”

                “Well, I’m not giving up yet,” Eames purred, his fingers trailing from Arthur’s hips in, in, in, until Arthur gasped again. “We still have a film to shoot, you and I.”

o-o-o

“So, how long has Eames been living here?” Ariadne asked, sipping her tea.  Arthur shrugged, glancing around as if only just realizing how much Eames had influenced its layout.

                “That’s not an easy thing to answer,” he replied. “We’re only in Paris for a few months out of the year.  Usually we’re moving around.  Sometimes we stay at his place.”

                “In Mombasa?”

                Arthur shrugged and chuckled dryly.

                “Didn’t expect it, but he really took to that city.  He’s been showing me around, and I’ve been trying to show him that Paris isn’t all fine wining and dining.”

                Ariadne grinned over the rim of her cup, her eyes flicking briefly to the fading bruise on Arthur’s neck.  Oh, she could just imagine what sort of ‘wining and dining’ Eames would be interested in.

                Then it occurred to her what might be on that disk.  She nearly dropped her cup and swore inwardly.  No… no, that was a stupid notion.  Sure, Arthur had surprised her tonight by showing her his apartment, warts and all, but… no.  Not Arthur.  He would NEVER consent to make one of those films…

                Though if he did, Ariadne had to seriously ask whether she would have the morality to return the disk before burning a copy for blackmail.

o-o-o

The third time they slipped in the shower, Eames was ready to call it quits.  At least for that scene.  He dragged Arthur to the bed, re-set the camera, and lay down beneath him.

                “I think we’ve been going about this all wrong,” he suggested. “You take control, maybe try to ease us into it.”

                “What?” Arthur babbled.  Eames rolled his eyes.

                “I bottomed our first time together.  This… this could be just like that, yeah?  Come on, just do it.”

                Arthur looked dubious about the whole plan, but did as Eames suggested, straddling his lover’s hips and running his hands up and down Eames’s chest.  Eames sighed and closed his eyes.  That felt good.  More than good, it was divine.  Arthur’s deft hands, this magnificently soft bed… God, he loved Arthur’s bed.  Did he have a goozefeather slip over the mattress or something?

                A sharp nip to the shoulder brought Eames to sudden awareness.  Arthur drew back, startled by Eames’s reaction, before narrowing his eyes.

                “Were you falling asleep just now?”

                “Wha?” Eames grunted. “No, no.  Just get back to it.”

                “You were falling asleep.”

                “Yeah, well, we’ve been at this for an hour and I’ve never bottomed on your bed before.  It’s really comfortable.”

                Arthur looked like he wanted to say something very, very rude, but restrained himself.

                “Just stay awake, all right?” he commanded.

                “Oh, you know it.”

                Arthur meant business this time, grasping Eames’s cock firmly in one hand and massaging it with just enough roughness to drive Eames crazy.  Between his gasps and pleads for more, he noticed that Arthur kept glancing at the camera.  And that Arthur was completely flaccid.  Eames groaned.

                “Arthur, you are not camera shy.”

                “What?  No, of course not.”

                After that, Arthur’s movements grew clumsy, then downright sloppy.  He was about as into this as he was into a cheese sandwich.  Eames groaned at a length and rolled off the bed.

                “All right, all right, that’s enough for one night,” he sighed, flipping off the camera and shuffling awkwardly toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna take care of this, you just go to bed, yeah?”

                Arthur actually looked a little put out, if immensely relieved as he nodded and settled himself underneath the covers.

o-o-o

The door opened and shut with a creak; probably on purpose, given the advance warning it would give should someone try to sneak into the apartment without warning.  Eames sauntered in, a bag of groceries clutched in one arm.  He took one look at Ariadne and tried to swallow his grin.

                “I see you didn’t take my advice about sticking it out at the warehouse,” he remarked, setting the grocery bag on the counter.

                Ariadne smiled sheepishly, heart thudding as she wondered what else she would find on that disk if it was what she thought.

                “Well, I was lucky Arthur doubled back and found me.”

                Eames let the grin loose as he started unloading the bag.

                “I see he got you to wear that shirt.  Did he tell you it’s actually his?”

                “It isn’t mine if I refuse to accept it,” Arthur grunted, taking a sip of tea.

                “There, see how he is?  I have never met a man who actually turned down a gift without so much as an apology.”

                “It’s not a gift, it’s a joke,” Arthur scoffed.

                “Well, if you’d remove the stick from your ass you’d find life is full of wonderful, fun things you never knew.”

                “I bet there’s no room for a stick up there half the time,” Ariadne muttered to herself.  Of course, she underestimated just how small the apartment was, or how much attention its occupants were paying to her.  Arthur nearly dropped his tea, eyes wide, while Eames laughed from the kitchen.

                Ariadne winced and mouthed a quick ‘sorry’.  Arthur swallowed and glanced away, sipping at his tea furiously.  At a length, Eames joined them, clutching a mug of his own.

                Soon, the conversation started up again, from gossip Eames had picked up while pursuing the mark’s mistress, to amusing tales from Arthur’s brief stint in the military, to Ariadne’s more socially awkward moments in school.  When Eames offered her the couch for the night, Ariadne was suddenly vividly reminded of the dvd she’d stolen, and how very much she didn’t want to be caught until she’d watched it.

                “I should probably head home,” she insisted, gathering her half-dry clothes from the line. “After all, the rain stopped, and I wanted to get some work done before bed.”

                Arthur checked his watch.

                “Don’t know how much you’ll get done at this hour,” he remarked.

                Ariadne chuckled and kissed him on the cheek.

                “You’d be surprised,” she said coyly. “Thanks for letting me hang out here.”

                “No problem.”

                She turned and gave Eames a quick kiss as well before dashing out of the apartment and all but running to the metro, her shoos squishing through the chilly rain-soaked streets, heart pounding in her chest.  Oh, she couldn’t wait to watch it.

o-o-o

Eames woke to Arthur’s arms wrapped around his waist.  He hummed in appreciation.  This was why he stayed in Paris half the year.  There was nothing quite like waking up this way, with Arthur’s check flush against his back, their legs tangled together, Arthur’s warm breath tickling his neck.  He could stay like this forever… except his bladder had other plans.

                Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from Arthur’s embrace and shuffled to the toilet, shivering against the chilly French morning.  He’d grown far too accustomed to the all-encompassing heat of Mombasa.

  

  1. With a yawn, he stumbled back out, bumping into the camera and the bedside table before tucking himself into bed, this time behind Arthur. Happily, he pulled Arthur up against him, placing a delicate kiss against the younger man’s neck. Arthur hummed in approval and turned to catch his lips, pressing his pelvis against Eames’s hip, silently informing him of precisely what he wanted to do first thing in the morning. Bloody French atmosphere was what it was. Eames loved it in spite of himself.
  



                Eames fumbled in the bedside table’s drawer, pulling a bottle of lube out and flipping the lid open.  Arthur moaned in expectation and reached down, intent on waking Eames’s cock.  It took only a few strokes befor he was standing at full attention, so to speak, his hands shaking as he fumbled to pour the lube onto his waiting fingers.  Arthur rolled over, pulling Eames on top of him.  Half the lube spilled onto the bed, but Eames had plenty left for his purposes.

                He reached down and began rubbing it around Arthur’s entrance.  Arthur closed his eyes and sighed, and in that moment he looked so horribly seductive that Eames had to lean down to catch his lips.  Arthur wrapped his arms around Eames’s neck, licking the older man’s lips and silently asking for permission to go further.  Eames happily complied, opening his mouth and enjoying the way Arthur’s tongue felt against his teeth.

                Like a dream, it seemed to stretch a few seconds into forever until Arthur was impatient again.  He shifted his hips forward, calling Eames back to the moment.  Chuckling, Eames inserted one finger, watching intently as Arthur’s eyes rolled back and he let out a sound halfway between a groan and a sigh.  Eames inserted another, then another, gently moving his fingers in and out until he had Arthur writhing on the bed, his breath coming in heavy gasps.

                “Please,” Arthur pleaded. “Please.”

                Eames needed no more prompting.  He poured another generous helping of lube and prepared himself.  Arthur widened his legs, pushing his pelvis up in what Eames had always quietly thought of as the ‘fuck me now’ position.  Well, he was happy to oblige.

                He plunged himself into Arthur, pausing to close his eyes and enjoy how truly wonderful it felt to be inside of him.  Arthur had what must have been a similar look of bliss on his face.  He reached up and grabbed Eames’s hips, urging him forward.

                Slowly, they found their familiar rhythm, slow at first, then faster, and faster.  Sweat trailed down Eames’s back, his hands gripping Arthur’s tight enough to leave marks, but only half as tight as Arthur held him.  He reached out and took Arthur’s cock and gave it just a few swift strokes before Arthur came with a cry.  Eames didn’t last much longer before his orgasm shook him.  White stars danced before his vision.  Together, they rode it out until, exhausted, Eames collapsed on top of Arthur. 

They lay like that for a moment, gasping and appreciating the warm contentment that rolled over both of them.  Finally, Eames pulled himself out and pulled Arthur close to his chest, pressing delicate kisses to his neck.

“Mm,” Arthur sighed. “You realize that, even though we’ve been trying to shoot a porno for a week, that’s the only time we’ve actually had real-life sex?”

“I suppose you and I were never cut out for film, darling.”

“Mm.”

Eames twined his fingers through Arthur’s, prepared to slip into a wonderful post-coital nap, when Arthur asked;

“Eames, is that red light on the camera supposed to be on?”

o-o-o

Ariadne leaned back in her chair, eyes wide.  That was… possibly the most romantic thing she’d ever seen.  Sure, there were weird parts.  And awkward parts.  And parts that were so downright stupid, she wanted to smack both of them for trying it, even if it meant getting caught.  That last scene, though, the one they’d clearly not meant to film…

After it became apparent that Eames and Arthur were seeing each other, everyone had teased them.  There were the obvious taunts about them being gay, which even the most open-minded person couldn’t resist if the moment seemed right.  Then there were the jabs at their obvious rivalry, and their polar opposite personalities.  Even Ariadne had looked at them and, while outwardly congratulating them, inwardly swore that it would never work.

That, though… that was gently, and sweet.  Ariadne bit her lip.  She’d definitely have to return the disk as soon as possible, blackmail free.  And maybe buy them flowers.  And volunteer to do all the somnacin tests on the next job, just to further show how much she was not making fun of them for this.

                She was never going to look at either of them the same way again.

o-o-o

“For a brilliant architect, it was rather dippy of her to forget her umbrella,” Eames remarked, slipping out of his clothes.

                “I think she just wanted to see the apartment, to be perfectly honest,” Arthur replied, shrugging out of his vest. “You know how curious she is.”

                Eames chuckled, calling to mind the image of her in that awful, oversized Hawaiian shirt.  Well, that’s what she got for being nosy.  Still, it was nice to have had her over.  It almost felt like a guest at their house.  Or was he getting too domestic?  Damn.  It was.  Arthur was bringing out the worst in him.

                Speaking of…

                Arthur stood by the dresser, eyes wide.

                “Eames,” he ventured cautiously. “You haven’t seen the sex dvd, have you?”

 

Fin.


End file.
